Lost, Dazed or Confused
by Wind Sy
Summary: Wandering a desolate grassland, covered in red dust and travel weary, a group of companions will uncover a secret as old as the earth. With the help of a wayward knight and a being of unknown power, they will have to change history, or die trying.
1. Where the Hell are We?

A voice, in the blazing vastness.

"We're lost. I know we are."

**Silence**

"Look, I know no one has said anything for three days, but I can tell we're lost. That village was supposed to be three days into this endless wasteland, and we've been going for a month now."

**Silence**

"Barton, damn it, you're the one leading this expedition, and I'm getting an answer out of you! Now!"

Wufei Chang spurred his horse into motion, bringing the animal to a sudden halt in front of a startled, if amused Trowa Barton. The woodsman's soft eyes flicked up from where he was staring absently at the neck of his plodding horse, meeting the blazing eyes of Wufei…and calmly led his horse around the fuming warrior without saying a word.

A smothered snort and a quickly cleared throat made Wufei's icy glare settle on the brown-robed mage, riding behind the woodsman. A wide smile broke through his controlled visage, however, at the glowering frustration on Wufei's face.

"Oh, come on Wufei! It's just the heat that's getting to us all. At least this place smells better than the swamp we first went through. Or the ruined farmland where we couldn't find anything to eat. This place is nice! The swaying wheat as far as the eye can see! The russet mountains to the west, the line of ocean to the east!"

"And each three months' ride from where we are, with no foreseeable end in front, and just as far in back. I am lost in the middle of the world's largest granary, with a self-imposed mute for a guide and a dirty mage who insists on sightseeing the same damn things for months on end!"

Quatre rolled his eyes and tried to shake the dust out of his sunny blond hair, turned a light russet from the constant red dust that swept throughout the vast grasslands. As far as the eye could see north and south, there was nothing but waving golden stalks of wheat and tallgrass, a constant reminder of complete and utter smallness. The land rolled and pitched under their feet, belied by the grass as flat and stark. Numerous small mammals skittered underfoot, unused to humans; an easy target for either Trowa's bow of Wufei's daggers. To the east, the white-capped Russet mountain range was visible when the three man party crested one of the hidden slopes and valleys that marked the landscape. To the west, a thin grey line was seen at sunrise and sunset, a glimmer or a shadow of the ocean as the sun moved its way across the sky.

Other than that, it was grass. As tall as the horses' heads, the work to clear a space for camp was only possible by Quatre's aid; magical fire didn't start prairie fires, and it browned the meat of the plainsrabbits quite nicely. Sitting on horse back was one of the only ways the companions saw one another, with the golden monotony broken only by Trowa's dark green woodsman suit (now a sickly grey-green from the dust and sun) and Wufei's spotted black mount (who was, the poor mare, turning the same disturbing grey colour as Trowa's clothing). Quatre was nearly impossible to find if he was separated from the group. Donned in light brown mage robes, with a light complexion and riding a dun coloured gelding, the young magic user was often only distinguishable from the landscape by his bright blue eyes.

Searching for a village that was supposed to be three days' journey into the Grassland Sea, the companions were a month off schedule and had seen nary another living soul besides their travel companions. Much to Trowa's relief, Quatre's boredom, and Wufei's annoyance, there had been little talk as to exactly **why** there had been no village where the woodsman had said there would be. Wufei had been trying for days, perhaps even weeks, to confront his companions, but both seemed content to wander until the End of Days came, or until they were all too bleached from sun and wind and sand to see eachother anymore, wandering off into a half life of existence.

With these cheery thoughts, Wufei halted his black (grey) mare and stood resolutely, waiting for his other companions to stop and come back. Much to his utter irritation, they plodded on, unseeing and seemingly uncaring. Wufei's frustrated snort ended the longest conversation the three of them had had in a week's time.

That night, as the horses were grazing in the distance – discernable only by the crunching sounds, hidden by the constant grass – Trowa lay worried. On his back, with his hands behind his head, the woodsman cut an impressive figure to those who cared to look (Quatre did), but years of patient waiting in tall trees had made his contemplation a still and silent one. Gazing at the stars, he fought the urge to look at the dark blue flame of magical fire, his eyes begging for a break from monotonous yellow and brown; it would not do to get distracted. So he stared at the black night, the sickly and weak light given from the stars a less than comforting companion to his musings. There was one thought and one thought only that circled Trowa's usually calm brain, like a dog chained to a deep post:

"Where the fuck are we?"

A sudden gasp of shock escaped Quatre at the same time Trowa's eyes caught sight of a death shadow that passed, inky black, across the stars. Wufei was on his feet with sword drawn, his eyes darting through the darkness illuminated oddly by the blue tinged light. Trowa sat up, feeling for his bow even as his eyes scoured the black night for a blacker shape.

Quatre's wavering voice broke the tense silence, even as it added to the sudden drop of dread that both the warrior and the woodsman felt.

"Dragon" At first, a whisper. "Dragon! DRAGON!" The young mage scrambled for his pack, broken out of his paralyzing fear by his own shriek. Knowing there was little he could do against the terror, but grabbing his spell components anyway, Quatre found a strength born of desperation and cast a protective shield around the three of them. Trowa started at having his intense search of the sky interrupted by the shimmering globe that formed around the campsite, but a glance at the mage told him it would hold firm. He dropped his bow and unsheathed the short sword that hung at his side, grimly aware that he would probably be eaten before the range of the weapon allowed him to strike what would be a superficial blow to the massive dragon.

The three travelers formed a back to back circle, covering all angles as Quatre spoke a swift word that quenched the fire from outside eyes. Now, the companions could see out, but the enemy without could not see in. In silence, waiting for the dread creature to return – as they all knew it must – they stood tense and sweating.

A rustle in the pitch black grass ahead of their little man made clearing made all three of the men jump, twirling to face the hated and fell creature of nightmares. Trowa thought fleetingly that a large dragon should be making slightly more noise as it crashed through the sea of wheat, but was more than shocked out of this line of thinking as a slight, black clad figure jumped into the circle of firelight. The person was carrying another over his shoulder, running full tilt towards the fire it wasn't supposed to see.

A flood of relief crossed the black clad figure's face (none of the companions could tell if it were male or female, due to the long braid of hair, although Wufei judged the person correctly male by the strength with which he carried the other person) as he spotted the companions, and he ran towards them. Too late, Quatre called out a warning as the black clad man smacked straight into the protective barrier, knocking himself as unconscious as the person he carried.

The shimmering canopy of the protective shield dissipated as the mage ended the spell. Wufei glanced sharply at the mage, Trowa's own question resonating on his lips: "What the hell are you doing?! There's a dragon out there!"

Quatre was dragging the black-clad figure nearer the fire, and, going back for the other person, grunted an answer over his shoulder; "I can't sense the dragon anymore, and they look like they need help – oh, for Goddess' sake, will you two put those down and come help me with this one!" The two warriors sheepishly lowered their weapons from the prostrate figures on the ground and grabbed a limb each of the other person the black clad man had brought with him.

Plopping himself on the ground, out of breath with moving the bodies and the sudden onslaught and dissipation of adrenaline from the non-existent fight, Quatre regarded the two figures on the ground, the black clad one beginning to stir. Smiling innocently up at his two companions, the mage ruffled his blond hair, watching the red dust float down to sparkle in the blue firelight.

"Well, at least we aren't as lost as these two!"

Trowa snorted in dry amusement as Wufei uttered a curse to crazy mages and the endless grassland.

The night swallowed the five small travelers, a spot of blue in the black night.


	2. Who the Hell are You?

_My __apologies for the time it took to update this. The reason it did take so bloody long was that I was at "Opera Camp" for three weeks. It's much more fun and much more serious than you think, I can assure you. And yes, there were s'mores. I have since made the entire plot and mapped out the sequence of events for this story. If this chapter is any indication, this is going to be a long one, which I hope to complete. All of the reviews and author alerts have kept me working on this; thank you all so much! If you enjoyed this chapter, please do tell me, and if you wish to offer suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Thank you all so much for the feedback. I hope you like it.  
_

* * *

Wufei was frightened. He would never have admitted it to his traveling companions, to his clan back home; but here, in the darkness, surrounded by wave after choking wave of tallgrass and wheat. Here, searching for the damn horses that fled the immense blackness of the dragon into the safer dark of the night, Wufei felt fear. A stifling, sweaty, unknown terror that upset and confused the proud warrior. If he had ever admitted it to his companions later, they would have – perhaps sheepishly – confessed to the same feelings. A dread of the night, unexplained and unforeseen, felt only during the strange events of the evening.

There was something odd going on, and it disturbed him.

Wufei crashed his way through the tallgrass, making more noise than he had ever in his life, frustrated at his own weakness. The horses would have stayed together; there was safety in the herd, in the mass of panicked flight across the blind plains of the night. As he trudged on, realizing again and again that the horses could have run miles by now from the threat of the dragon, he thought of the two strangers that found their way to the encampment.

_Quatre's spell made the fire invisible to all but friendly and familiar eyes, so the dragon couldn't track us by the light – which is what undoubtedly brought it to us in the first place. So how did those two see it? Neither looks to be a mage themselves; in fact, the black clad one had the mark of a thief or dancer about him. A trickster, no doubt; perhaps luring men into dark alleyways with his hair and then robbing them for all they're worth. He seemed strong enough to do it, too; his companion was wearing chain armor and has a full compliment of weapons, yet he carried the man with no trouble. I hope Trowa remembered to disarm them both before they woke; Quatre never would. After making me find these thrice-cursed horses, I'd better not come back to dead traveling companions and a thief rifling through my possessions. Why the hell did the woodsman, master tracker, not come after these stupid animals?_

Wufei halted his headlong crashing, listening. There! The sound again! A soft pandering of hoofed feet. Relief coursed through the warrior as he parted the next swath of wheat, revealing his beloved black mare, and the two other stupid beasts the companions had procured in their travels.

The horse whinnied a frightened and relieved greeting to her Master; everything would be fine now that Master had come to bring her home. No more black shadows and Death on Silent Wings to take her.

* * *

Quatre bent over the prone form of the black clad figure, brushing back the brow bangs to see if a lump had formed on the well-shaped forehead. A slight blush and a deep sense of shame trembled Quatre's hands as he noticed the proportions of the young man's face; beautiful. Shaking his head to clear himself of such deviant thoughts, Quatre was relieved to note that there seemed to be no lacerations or permanent damage, although the young man was going to have one hell of a lump.

The man in black shuddered at the cool touch of the mage's hand, his eyelids fluttering as he moaned softly, waking up. Quatre backed up so as to not startle him, and the prone figure's eyes suddenly snapped open, unseeing, unfocused. The eerie blue light of the magical fire reflected the deep blue of the young man's eyes, turning them a violent purple seen only in flowers and silk fabrics of the far west.

Quatre inhaled sharply as the young man's eyes found his own, widening in shock. He wasn't beautiful, Quatre thought. He was stunning.

Trowa started at the mage's quickened breath; he had been puzzling over the innate form of the black clad figure's friend. The soldier had not moved or made a sound the entire time since the mage had dragged him into the blue circle of the firelight. Still on alert for the re-appearance of the dragon, Trowa had searched the pockets of the soldier and found nothing. No money, no food rations for crossing the vast, strange grasslands, no water rations. This struck Trowa as the most perplexing; with out Quatre's ability to draw water from different elements, the three companions would have long ago dried to empty husks, blown apart on a puff of arid wind.

The black clad man's eyes focused on the young mage, and quickly widened in his own shock. He croaked out;

"Qu…Quatre?"

The young mage was perplexed, "Do I know you?" _Fat chance_; Quatre thought to himself, _I would have remembered those eyes_.

The black-clad man tried to sit up from the ground, and winced at the pain that shot through his head. "Fuck, it feels like I've run into a wall. What the hell did you do to me, Quatre?"

Quatre recognized his own name, but the words of the stranger were odd; although the young mage knew many different tongues, learned throughout his travels, the words of the man were slippery and had a false ring to them. Words that floated through the mind, defying comprehension or even recognition as language. Even the bell-like words of magic seemed grounded to this world; the words of the stranger were alien.

Trowa quickly stood as the black-clad man spoke, drawing his short sword and pacing silently to Quatre's side. The black-clad man's next words were swallowed in haste as the tip of Trowa's sword nicked his neck.

"Are you thief, vagabond, murderer? Rogue mage? Those words you speak seem evil." Trowa's sword dug deeper into the stranger's neck as the stranger grinned wide. Quatre's breath caught in his throat. He might be a villain, but he was ravishing.

The man in black blanched almost as white as his unconscious companion, making his skin seem translucent in the firelight. He looked like he had seen a ghost, and it made Trowa uncomfortable to be under such scrutiny. Switching to Traveler's Tongue –the language the companions most often used and were speaking then – the black clad man grinned up at Trowa, breaking the strange moment; "Well, _he's_ going to be glad to see you, at least."

Trowa's eyes narrowed in suspicion and confusion, but before he could either run the man through or demand an explanation, the prone solider groaned and began twitch. Quatre hastened to see to the warrior. Trowa kept his attention and his sword on the still-grinning black clad man.

Quatre took a cursory look at the soldier, and felt his stomach drop. The soldier's skin was waxy and pale on the face, but the arms and hands were covered in deep bruises that indicated burst blood vessels and deep impact. Over the purple and black bruises, there were long, thin scars marring the strong flesh of the upper and lower arms. Quatre began hastily stripping the solider of his armor and under clothes, leaving only the typical loincloth of the solider. The bruising covered almost all of his body, which was sweating unnaturally. The breathing was erratic and shallow at best, rattling and choked at worst. His chest was caved in, almost as if his ribs had collapsed into his lungs, and his entire torso was covered in the mottled bruising. Quatre felt the soldier's stomach, and his fears worsened when he found it rock hard and unyielding; his injuries were far below the surface and bleeding profusely. The internal bleeding continued down his legs; Quatre took a deep breath, calming himself. He had never seen anyone so severely injured and still alive.

Quatre leaned over the head of the wounded man, marveling at how such grave injuries could have missed the head as well. Lifting the eyelids, Quatre almost cried out. The pupils responded to the shift in light; this man was awake! Slowly lowering the lids, Quatre turned back to the man in black, still under the ever-vigilant gaze of the woodsman. The sword had tilted the man's head back, leaving a slight trail of red blood where the blade had carefully begun to pierce flesh. The black clad man was still grinning, having an intense staring contest with his captor.

Quatre called out, speaking Traveler, his voice calm despite his horror at the condition of the soldier; "Stranger, what happened to this warrior?"

Never taking his eye's from Trowa's, the black clad man's grin fell into pained concern. "I certainly hope you're skilled in your art, Quatre. I take it you're a healer, right? Probably a war mage as well, if I would hazard a guess. So you can hopefully recognize the poison in him" the man's eyes flicked his companion "and find the correct spell to draw it out. As for the rest of it…never mind how it happened, just fix – irk!"

Trowa's sword dug dangerously deep into the back-clad figure's neck, cutting off his words and keeping the captive completely still. The infuriating grin returned and Trowa's desire to kill the man rose.

Grabbing hold of the wounded soldier's head, Quatre placed his index fingers on the temples of the man, closed his eyes, and brought his forehead gently to rest on that of the warrior's. Speaking from the bright spark of magic entangled in his body, Quatre recited his spell:

"Innalan Yaro, Betalke beyona sotele. Iikio, lo nanea panteyea provisio. Noh!"

The black-clad man's eyes focused on the young mage and his companion as an eerie green light began to shine from the soldier. Starting beneath the bare skin of his collapsed chest, the light began to pulse up and down his body, spreading with the irregular heartbeat. As soon as the warrior was covered, head to toe, with the sickly green light, it shot out of his mouth and into the night air in a violent stream. It hung menacingly in the air for a moment, pulsing and seeming to ooze it's own malicious intent, before an errant breeze swept it up and scattered it across the plains.

_At least Quatre knows what he's doing. Well, it looks like Quatre knows what he's doing. I still can't believe Quatre and Trowa are here! Trowa…I never thought I'd see you again… Gak, speaking of which…_

"Oi, good woodsman!" the black-clad man managed to choke out around the sword "you're cutting it awfully close, don'tcha think?" The violet eyes rolled down to indicate the offending blade, which proceeded to move slightly away from the thief's throat.

"Ah, I'll thank you kindly for that. Closest shave I've ever had! You have my compliments." A grin.

Trowa rolled his eyes slightly, and the black clad man's ever-present grin widened. _Well, well, well! This is new! Seems they may share the same face, but this isn't the same Trowa I knew. If he let's me live, we'll see how this pans out. They might help us find a way back._

The black clad man turned his attention once more to Quatre as the mage began another spell, short, sweet and almost automatic. Quatre had cast this particular spell far too often.

"Yaro, dwenal!"

At once, the soldier's body gave a convulsive shake, and what looked like small insects began to crawl beneath his skin. His chest seemed to puff outwards, then settle back into place. Quatre felt the soldier's abdomen, and nodded approval; the rock-hard feeling of trapped blood had left.

As the last of the chalky pallor was leaving the warrior's face, Trowa's head snapped up to watch the outer ring of the tiny clearing the companions had made. A soft rustle that was clearly not the wind came closer, and soon enough, Wufei appeared in the blue firelight, leading his dusty black mare and the other two horses. He observed the scene with a keen eye, and seeing everything under control, nodded and went to his packs, taking out the dried rabbit meat that was his supper ration.

He studiously ignored the black clad figure staring at him with large, violet eyes in disbelief.

Quatre stood, and checked his pockets for a certain leaf. Holding it up to the blue firelight, and seeing the four long points, Quatre nodded and bent once more to the prone soldier. He crumpled up the leaf and sprinkled it into the open mouth of the warrior. Almost at once, the breathing evened out, and the warrior looked at rest.

Quatre stood, and wiped the dirt from the knees of his longish robes, leaving streaks of brown dust on top of the darker brown dirt. The mage sighed, and thought fleetingly, wistfully, of being clean. Shaking his head – and sending a small shower of dirt down onto the sleeping soldier – Quatre walked towards the black clad man.

"Now, we'll start with some answers, if you please. What is your name, stranger?"

The black clad man sighed, and put the ever-present grin back on his face. Looking around at the three companions and ignoring the sword still at his throat, he gazed straight up into Quatre's eyes and extended a hand.

"Duo. Duo Maxwell."


	3. What the Hell are you doing here?

**hsss-shhh**

**hsss-shhh**

**hsss-shhh**

This noise, though the darkness.

Staggered heart machines, reading staggered beats.

**hsss-shhh**

**hsss-shhh**

His internal clock told him he had been conscious for one hour and roughly forty minutes. Too long for no contact. The situation parameters were changing; the new noise had been studied and catalogued as a respirator. Having checked his own breathing, he concluded it was Duo on the machine; which meant the other man's condition had only gotten worse.

**hsss-shhh**

**hsss-shhh**

**hsss-shhh**

This noise, through the darkness.

**hsss-shhh**

**hsss-shhh**

**hsss-shhh**

"We've been traveling though the Eastern lands, and Heero got injured. I've been looking for a healer for a week; he's only gotten this bad in the last couple of hours. So, yanno, thanks for that."

Duo gazed into the mesmerizing blue fire. It didn't give off the heady, thick smell of burning wood, nor did it crackle or jump like regular fire. Despite the eerie way it swayed – completely at odds with the breeze that flowed across the midnight grassland – it still gave off some warmth. Duo absently raised his hands to it, sitting on the ground. His one knee was raised, and the other leg was folded under him, pulling his simple black tunic flush across his tight stomach. Quatre hoped the fire would account for his blush as he handed a metal cup to Duo. The thin soup was at least somewhat nourishing, and Duo accepted it gratefully.

Trowa was sitting cross-legged on the far side of the fire. He watched Duo's movements, tracking him with his eyes. His dark green tunic and brown leather pants hung loose about his small frame, the colours morphing into a deep brown and muted purple from the firelight and ever-present dust. His shock of hair hid one of his eyes, but they still watched the stranger, Duo, warily.

Wufei was lying on the ground, silently asleep. His white pants and blue top, in the style of his heritage from the farthest reaches of the west, were muddled with the stains of traveling and from the fire. He had faith that the ranger and mage could contain the two strangers if need be, and he rather preferred his sleep to answers.

As the group sat in tense silence, the deep breathing of the warrior, Heero, could be heard over the rustling grasses. Trowa looked to Duo, trouble beginning to stir in his stomach.

"You say that you've been traveling through the Eastern lands; how far was the last town? We have need to reach there, and we are long overdue."

Duo sipped the soup before answering; it was an interesting combination of spices that made him think of home, but nothing he could put his finger on. Either way, he decided it was delicious, and he thought on Trowa's question as he sipped. "We came over the mountains," Duo gestured in the general direction of the Russet peaks that adorned one side of the horizon, "and then came though some of the villages, heading west." He took another sip before continuing.

"The first couple we came to were ok, but the farther west we moved…the more weird things came popping up."

Quatre leaned forward, interest and fear in his eyes.

"And the last village we got to…they were all gone."

Trowa shifted positions, and his voice was pinched as he asked "Gone?"

_How odd, _Duo thought. _Trowa never would have moved like that. This is like a carnival fun mirror, but a helluva lot creepier._

"Yeah, gone. As in, dead; all of them. Mostly in their beds, some in the streets. There were at least three of them that looked like they had killed themselves, but the rest looked like they had choked on something. All covered in sores, too. The flies were incredible…"

Duo sipped on the soup again, and watched the reactions of the two travelers. Quatre hurriedly got up and began to tidy and rearrange things about the camp, fussing over packs and mumbling about checking on the horses. His brown robes shuffled and swished through the grass as he walked, creating a strange wave through the endless field.

Trowa sat completely still, but his face had blanched while his hands had turned red. His eyes were focused on the fire, and seemed almost haunted. His voice, however, was detached, cold; "There was no one alive, were there?"

Duo's cup stopped halfway to his lips, terrible familiarity gripping his heart and threatening to hitch his breath. He paused, thinking; _Ah, the Trowa we all knew and feared for makes his appearance at last. Guilt? Check. Fear? Check. If this were our Trowa, I'd back off, play a fool, change the subject. But…maybe…he's different here_…

Looking down into his cup, he said, "No, no one was. From when we crossed the mountains, to now, no village had remained untouched in some way. Whatever it is, though, it didn't cross the mountains yet." Duo risked a glance; Trowa still stared blankly into the fire. "But we came across from the north, not the east. I have no idea what lies ahead of you three. As far as I know, the eastern settlements could all be flying high…"

Quatre still fustled with his packs, Wufei still slept, Heero still healed, and Trowa still stared. Duo sighed, contented and sad. Here were the behaviors he knew, he missed, he had longed for and dreaded all the same. Each to their habit of dealing with stress; and he had was no exception.

"So, you had mentioned your journey lay to the east…Mind me asking what that might be?"

**Silence**

_Well, well, not so different. Hey, that gives me an idea…_

Duo stiffly stood up, raised his arms above his head, and stretched so far that a cat would be proud. His arched back cracked like a gunshot in the silence of the night, and Wufei started awake. Duo smirked, and twisted his back, popping each vertebra slowly, and with apparent pleasure. Wufei grimaced at the sky, biting his tongue. Duo bent down to touch his toes, setting new and previously untouched bones in a percussive accompaniment to his movements. Wufei finally sat up and glared at the braided interloper, who returned with an innocent and open smile. Scoffing, the warrior turned over and settled back down. Duo silently lowered himself back down, his performance done and secretly pleased.

_Ahahaha, not so different at all! Same old quirks, same old looks from all of them. But far different stories. So why do Heero and I still remember? And where the hell are these guys trying to get to?_

Duo opened his mouth to ask Trowa again, and found the woodsman had retreated into his own mind. Distant, his eyes, with dread fear in them. Instead, Duo turned to the dusty mage, still rummaging the packs near where Heero lay. Duo moved toward Quatre on quiet feet, not wanting to disturb incase the mage was making magic. Duo padded to the other side of Heero, into the mage's line of sight, and squatted by the prone warrior.

Quatre glanced up once, then again in shock as the black clad man had suddenly appeared on the other side of his patent. The man's eyes still captivated, and his pensive look at his traveling companion turned to a warm smile that fluttered something inside of Quatre. Duo whispered, "How's he making out?"

Quatre blinked a few times, his eyes shining, "I think…think maybe we got to him…just in time. I've never seen injuries quite like his, though. Poison, sure, but those bruises seemed to be from a fall, or from being crushed. So much full body damage rarely occurs…" He waited patently for Duo to fill in the blanks, give some clue to the injuries, but unspoken question was met with unspoken answer. Duo instead changed the subject.

"Your archer seems short on words, so I was looking for some more stimulating conversation. He said you were heading east…"

Quatre nodded and said no more. Two could play the withholding game.

"As I was saying, all the villages past the mountains seemed to be affected in someway, but we've only really seen a few on our way here, and we've not been this far south yet, so I don't really know what lies ahead. Or to the west, for that matter."

Quatre smiled sadly, "The west contains nothing until the end of the plains. Or the beginning, if you like, it all depends on where you're traveling. There is a bustling market town at the edge of the plain, and scattered settlements in the shadow of the mountains, but beside those, the way is barren of humans. We're heading east, to the towns beyond the plains, to perhaps lend a hand. At least, that's my mission. Both my companions are honour guards, although they feel far more like family now. Three months of wandering the desert will do that to a person." Quatre latched and buckled the pack he had been working with.

"Why don't you and he come with us? I know you said you were heading westward and south, but the place contains no resources. In fact, I'm not sure how you made it this far, with just what you have, but east might yet be your best option if nothing is holding you to your current course."

Duo, his mind already forming more questions, eagerly agreed.

_The boys are back. _


End file.
